Expired
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: Harry dies... but he's the Master of Death, right? Rated for language


**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Credit for the death goes to Lizzy. I could never think of something so inspired, and beta'd by the lovely Gus-Gus.**

 **Word Count - 686**

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 **Expired**

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He was floating.

It was an weird feeling, and as he stared down at his body, prone in an armchair by a dying fire, he had the odd sensation that he'd died.

Strange. He didn't think he'd done anything death-worthy.

"I never thought it would be jelly beans that would kill you," a familiar voice from behind him said, amusement evident in the tone. "The Dark Lord would be spinning in his grave, if you hadn't blasted him into little pieces."

Harry turned, raising his eyebrow when he saw Draco Malfoy in a deep black hooded cloak . He was even carrying a scythe. It was disappointingly cliche.

"How'd you land this gig?" Harry asked, gesturing with his hand to Draco's outfit.

Draco shrugged. "Penance, I suppose. Spend a few years collecting souls, and I'll get to spend my ever after in heaven. Better than the alternative."

Harry nodded, looking back down at his body. "You said jelly beans. How'd I die from jelly beans? Did Bertie Botts add a new arsenic flavour?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Did you check the date?"

Harry frowned. "Really? Expired jelly beans? Fuck me, I'll never live that one down."

Snorting, Draco shook his head. "Probably not. Especially since you're pretty dead."

"So what happens now?"

Draco shrugged. "I dunno. I'm here to meet you, you go off into a light when it shows up, job done. I don't know what happens when you get wherever you're going."

"Don't know much, do you?" Harry retorted, running a ghostly hand through his hair. "I'm master of death, you know? Doesn't that mean that I'm your boss? Can't you like, put me back?"

"Nobody said I could. When you die, you die."

Harry laughed. "If only that was true. This is like, my third go at it."

"Third time's the charm."

"You're cute."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Where is your light? It's normally faster than this."

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. You're the one with the scythe. You tell me."

Draco leant back against the wall. "Guess we just have to wait. Lights will come when _you're_ ready for them."

"Huh. What happens if I don't want them?"

"You stay a ghost," Draco shrugged. "And spend eternity wandering the planet, bored out of your fucking mind, I imagine."

"Don't really wanna hang around," Harry replied after a moment. "I can already imagine what people will say about the way I died. I want no part of that mess."

"So you should be ready to move on. Yet, no lights. What's holding you back?"

Harry tilted his head. "Don't really wanna face my dad and Sirius yet either. They're worse than the Weasleys. They think they got jokers, Sirius will fucking love this."

Draco shook the sleeve of his cloak back and checked his watch. "I got appointments to keep, Potter. Time to go."

"Nah. Maybe I'll follow you around for a bit."

Harry bent to pick up his wand from the table, growling frustratedly when his hand went straight through the table. "Well, that's inconvenient," he muttered.

"You can't just follow me around Potter," Draco muttered, shaking his head. "Doesn't work that way."

Harry shrugged. "I'm the Master of Death, sure it does."

Curiously, he reached out to touch Draco. When he made contact, he raised his eyebrow. "Huh. You're solid and I can touch you. Cool."

"Why would you want to touch me?" Draco asked, his brow furrowing.

Harry winked. "Surely you didn't think I was so obsessed with you just because I was suspicious you were a baby Death Eater? I was a teenager." He shook his head. "We're gonna have to lose the robe though, you know? You got a fine ass and you're hiding it. It's unfair to the masses."

Draco stared.

"Thought you were on a schedule," Harry said after a moment. "Let's go."

He gripped Draco's shoulder so he wouldn't get left behind. Draco sighed. He should have known it wouldn't be a simple soul collection when he got the name.

Harry Potter never did what he was supposed to. Why would he be different in death?

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 **Written for;**

Meet Cute #9 - A was fatally wounded and suddenly finds themself looking down at their own lifeless body in confusion. B is a reaper and offers A guidance... but A doesn't want to do the whole 'follow the light' rubbish. A wants to flirt with the cute reaper.


End file.
